


Photograph

by Stareena



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Drabble, Gen, I blame Matt Cohen, Memories, based on photograph, photograph
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-14
Updated: 2016-11-14
Packaged: 2018-08-31 01:44:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8558356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stareena/pseuds/Stareena
Summary: On her own, Mary pulls over for the night and goes through John's journal and stumbles across a photograph.
(I blame Matt Cohen!)





	

Sometime after dark, an old beat-up Chevy truck pulled into a motel on the outskirts of Laramie Wyoming. The truck was more rust than orange but it was solid and had been easy to maintain the four days she had been driving it. Jumping out of it, Mary Winchester looked around before walking to the office, securing herself a room for the night.

Inside room nine, she dropped her bag. Taking a moment, she laid out salt lines and wards before she went out to grab something for dinner from town. Pickings were slim in terms of diners but there were four Subways in the small city. Opting for a sandwich and chips, she brought everything she needed back with her before bunking down for the night.

Turning on the television in the room after securing the space, she found Star Wars on TV and left that on. Smiling softly she remembered John taking her out to see the movie one night when it was in theaters, they shared a small popcorn and Mary remembered being astounded by the special effects, idly wondering if George Lucas hadn’t made a demon deal to make the movie.

Chuckling at the memories, Mary was pulled from her reverie at a commercial for a modern Washer and Dryer. One that seemed that it would be home on the Death Star compared to what she remembered using back before her kids.

Looking down at her barely touched tuna sandwich, she pushed it away. The guilt of walking away from her boys was still eating her up inside. There was still so much she was processing and having the boys… those men… it wasn’t helping. Instinctively she knew they were her sons, but all she saw were strangers. Strangers that were ghosts of John.

Pulling out his journal, Mary started flipping through the old thing, reading and re-reading entries, some of which was in John’s scrawl, some of which was in another impatient messy scratch, maybe Dean’s and another handwriting this one, more neat, must be Sam’s. All of it chronicling their adventures, their stories, their journeys through hunting. The life she had desperately fought to keep them away from. Each page turn felt like falling further and further down a rabbit hole where she failed. Once John discovered what her old world was like, seemingly on his own, there was no stopping him. She had to give him credit, for having no background in the world, he did a damn fine job of teaching the boys it seemed. As did Bobby Singer. A name she saw come up here and there in the book. She’d have to look the man up, say thanks for helping out her husband from time to time.

Stuck in the back were a few photos, some she had already gone through but there was one that was stuck to the back of another one. It took her a minute to pry them apart before she gasped. Looking at it she felt her eyes water up.  Really she hadn’t let herself have a good cry since she surfaced but now it seemed that there was no holding back the water works.

  
  


John was holding baby Dean on his lap in the Impala. It had been a cool fall afternoon and they were getting ready to out to dinner but the two of them, dressed alike, Mary had teased, were too adorable to go undocumented, so she took a quick snap of her polaroid camera before they went out.

Smiling fondly, Mary wiped her tears away and set the picture down. It became clear to her what she now had to do. She had to go back to Lawrence, she had to say goodbye. Composing herself, she sniffled, managed to work down the rest of her sandwich and took a shower before changing into some soft clothes and climbing into bed.

Before turning off the light, Mary sat up, undecided for a moment, remembering something Sam had said once. Closing her eyes and clasping her hands together, feeling a little silly, she said a soft prayer to Castiel, letting him know what she was doing but asked that he not say anything to Dean just yet. Letting him know she was okay and full of doubt about herself and that she missed John horribly, she felt that this kind of communication was suddenly something she could get behind. Opening her eyes for a moment, she looked up, half expecting to find the angel standing before her. Taking a deep breath she closed her eyes again.

Reassuring Castiel that this hiatus was merely temporary until she found her footing, she promised him that she would pray to him as often as she could to let him know she was well. Even if it was brief, only to let him know she was alive. Ending the prayer with an Amen, she opened her eyes slowly, feeling somehow refreshed, lighter.

From the moment she met Castiel she felt a kindred spirit with him. Sam and Dean were inseparable and while Dean preached they were all family, there were definite layers to that family. Mary and Castiel were on the outside looking in. It brought the two of them together in a way. For that she would be grateful. The fact he was so loyal to her boys was another reason.

Nodding her head, Mary switched off the light. It would be quite a drive to Lawrence from Laramie. Maybe with the ghosts of her past finally salted and burned she could finally move into a future of her own.

 

 

 


End file.
